Gotham Soul Food
by Jack Wong
Summary: Robin sees a picture of Two-Face on a restaurant wall; the owner tells the story and Batman pays him a visit.


Jimmy hangs out behind the counter at the soul food joint that bears his name – best ribs in town, and the brisket; well, damn. He handed off the recipes to the guys in the kitchen, now he works the front, which suits him fine. He can give his attention to the regulars that come in, that have been talking to him for decades, while Theotis and John work away to make sure the meat does the talking long after they leave the restaurant. It's a good life.

"I've got an order to go," a young man says at the counter, and Jimmy turns; he'd been caught up staring at the pictures on the wall. Everyone who's anyone in Gotham, anyone who's ever been through Gotham, has rolled in through Jimmy's and got their Polaroid posted up above the tables. It's a pretty vast collection.

"What's the name?" Jimmy says, and looks under the counter for the order.

"Bruce," the kid says, and Jimmy's head snaps up.

"Bruce Wayne?" The kid nods. Jimmy pulls the box up to the countertop, and sets it down. "You his son or something?"

The kid laughs. "Something like that. How much?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "Man's got a tab." He turns pensive. "Boy, he really helped me out after the fire. Got his meals for free for a while." He looks to the kid. "Had to start charging eventually though. Eats a lot of damn rib sandwiches."

The kid laughs. "He always talks about this place."

"Shit, he's the reason it's still open. See that wall?" The kid looks to his left and beholds Jimmy's museum. "His's the biggest picture."

It's huge, in a frame. Jimmy smiles, then turns back to Bruce's boy.

"Anyway." He notices that the kid's eyes are transfixed on the wall, and then watches as he lifts up his arm and points.

"What's the story behind that one?" he asks, and Jimmy has to squint.

"Oh," Jimmy says, embarrassed. "Well, your meal'd get cold if I told it."

"That's okay," the kid says, and looks to Jimmy. "Do you mind?"

"Well," he says…

'

The bell rings; means that someone's entered the joint. Jimmy looks up from the newspaper. "Hey Roy," he says, and smiles.

"Hey Jimmy." Roy's been a customer for ages; he comes in with his buddies sometimes, but usually just gets a big order to go. "I've got a question."

"Shoot," Jimmy says.

"You ever do private parties?"

"Private parties...hmm." Jimmy considers it. "Not really. You mean shut the whole place down so that your friends can have it to themselves?"

"Exactly," Roy says.

"I like to have it open to the public."

Roy looks back and Jimmy sees that a car, a very expensive car, is idling just outside the entrance. "Well, my friend would like to make a reservation." Jimmy opens his mouth. "And he doesn't like to take no for an answer."

"Who's your friend?"

Jimmy knew that Roy and his friends often came in wearing old trenchcoats, and sometimes had scars on their faces; marks of gangsters. He wasn't the kind to ask questions, because in Gotham that was just bad policy, and he regretted letting one through. But this was a special occasion, and he wanted to know.

Roy stared at him long and hard, and Jimmy could tell it wasn't going to be an answer he'd like. "A fan," Roy said.

"Look, I've got nothing against you bringing a lot of people in here." Jimmy swept his arm towards the dining area. "We've got a lot of tables."

"No private parties, huh? What if we put down a deposit." Roy reached for his wallet.

"Look Roy, you've been coming in here what, two years?"

Roy stares at Jimmy. "Yeah."

"Come on, you know me. I'm a stubborn guy." Jimmy smiles his most disarming smile. "I can't do a private party, I'm sorry. Never done one before."

"Alright," Roy says. Slowly, he pulls his hand back out of his pocket, empty, and takes it and pats Jimmy on the shoulder. "I'll be seeing you."

"Don't want anything today?" Jimmy asks.

"Just a question this time," Roy says, and walks out. The bell rings again, and Jimmy watches as Roy gets into the expensive car with the opaque windows, and drives away.

'

Two weeks later and Roy hasn't come back. This is unusual because the man loves his pulled pork, and comes in multiple times a week; nothing. Jimmy doesn't let it concern him, but has a bad feeling. His mind keeps coming back to the car, and Roy's offer. And his 'friend,' who doesn't like no for an answer…

It was an evening like any other; five pm, not the dinner rush yet. A few people at the tables, but no line around the block yet. Jimmy goes back into the kitchen to talk to his cooks, and keeps an ear out for the bell.

When it rings it rings over and over. Curious, he starts to walk out to the counter, and sees the Chinese couple first, sitting at table 5, their mouths open in fear. Jimmy comes around the corner and is face to face to face with Roy's 'friend' – Two-Face Harvey Dent.

"…Mr. Dent," Jimmy says after a pause, trying to walk a line between being tough and not having a heart attack. He looks to Roy, standing in back of the crime boss, who looks away.

"Hey, Jimmy," Dent says. "Love your chicken."

"…thank you," Jimmy says. He looks to the door and sees one of Roy's friends putting the blinds down, and turning the sign so that the world sees it as CLOSED.

"I'd like to make an order," Dent says.

"Right," Jimmy says.

"Everyone, there's no cause for alarm," one of Dent's gangsters tells the restaurant. "We're only here to enjoy this establishment's food. But if you try to leave, or try to call the cops, we will shoot to kill." Jimmy comes close to the heart attack.

"Two whole fried chickens," Two-Face says. "One stack of ribs. Extra barbecue sauce." He blinks with his good and bad eyes. "Shouldn't you be writing this down?"

Jimmy awakes from his stupor. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he wouldn't die. "Right," he says. "Two fried chickens…"

After the food is made, Jimmy stands at the counter with his cooks at the request of the gang, who wanted everyone in sight. Two-Face raises his hand and speaks. "Can we get more hot sauce please."

There are fifteen of them, and they take up most of the restaurant. The rest of the people at the tables are frozen in fear. Jimmy is stoic, and does everything they ask. He hopes that when they leave the place won't be covered in blood.

Instead the gang pays, and tips heartily. "Delicious," Two-Face says as he leaves. "Seriously. We should do this again sometime." The door opens to the outside world, the gangsters leave, and Jimmy's Soul Food is not strewn with corpses. As the same expensive car leaves the sidewalk, Jimmy and everyone there breathes a huge sigh of relief.

But then, as the other diners begin to stand, the car comes back. Jimmy is paralyzed. What could they possibly want but to kill them all?

Two-Face enters, alone. "Hey," he says, and motions to the picture wall. "You're gonna want a picture, right?"

"Sure," Jimmy says, thinking fast. "Theotis, get the camera."

Harvey Dent smiles with his half-horrid face, and Jimmy tries to look happy as Theotis lines up the shot.

Click.

'

"Huh," the kid says. "He ever come back?"

"No, but his worker does. Comes in all the time." Jimmy smiles, to cover up other emotions. "Anyway, that's the story."

"Good story," the boy says, and turns to go. "Well, I'd better get this to Bruce."

"Tell him I said hello, okay?"

"Will do."

Jimmy leans on the counter, looking after him as he leaves. Man, he hopes Dent never comes back. No telling what might happen with a man that dangerous. He grabs a rag and leaves the counter to wipe down table 2.

'

Two days later Jimmy is closing up shop when the bell rings. "We're closed," he says without looking up.

"This photo, of you and Two-Face," a raspy voice says. "What's the story?"

And Jimmy looks up. "Batman…"

He spins the yarn again, and Batman stares at the picture. "If you ever see Roy again, call this number," he says, and hands a scrap of paper to Jimmy.

"I will," Jimmy says. "I know I should have called the cops, but-"

"It's okay," Batman says. "Odds are they'd be on his payroll anyway, around here." He turns to go. "That's a direct line to some people I trust. Use it."

"Okay," Jimmy says. He watches as the masked man walks away.

John comes around from the kitchen. "You talking to someone, Jimmy?"

"No," Jimmy says. "No, nobody." And he continues with his work.

'

The next time he sees Roy Jimmy calls the number; nothing happens, he thinks, but the next day he sees Two-Face in the paper – caught with thousands of dollars worth of guns.

That night he gets a surprise visit, during business hours. It's 9:30, just before closing, and he is facing the other way. "Order for DK," a gruff voice says. Jimmy turns around, and it's a certain black figure. DK. Dark Knight.

"Hey, I saw the papers," Jimmy says, smiling, as he pulls the order up from under the counter.

"You broke the case," Batman says.

Jimmy feels proud. "On the house," he says.

"Thanks," Batman responds, and starts to walk away. "Have a nice life, Jimmy."

"Oh Batman," the restaurant owner says, and grabs something sitting on the floor behind him.

"Yeah."

Jimmy feels weak just asking, but does it anyway. "Can I get a picture?"


End file.
